Will freedom of press replace gossip?

Will freedom of press replace gossip?

JAKARTA (JP): My weekly visit to the mall is not just for
shopping, but also for a visit to my hairdresser. My hairdresser
is the old-fashioned unisex type, where people of both sexes can
get their hair done by male or female stylist of their choice all
in the same space.

I have received many invitations to go to newer and better
ones, with modern comforts and special sections for men and
women, but no, I stay with my old salon, even though other
clients' smoking sometimes bothers me.

The reason is not only that my stylist does it better, but I
also have special needs. In the first place I prefer a male
stylist because I need his flattering words, like: "Tante (aunt)
you look so bright today, is it your birthday?" Or he may
compliment me on my dress by telling me it's just right for me
and the colors match my hair so well.

There is something special that I go there for, which used to
be one of the sources of extra information in the days prior to
freedom of the press: the gossip. Nowhere else can you get more
juicy and funny gossip than from these hairdressers. He used to
say jokingly that hairdressing was his business and gossip was a
bonus.

His bits of gossip have always been first class. Not because
it involved the former first family, but because it is usually
gems that nobody has ever heard. He usually adds a little
philosophy in his remarks that beats the best social criticism.
If he was in Hollywood he might be able to fill a gossip column
like Elsa Maxwell or Sheila Graham, or if he was in Washington DC
he could fill the Washington Whisper column. If he could write he
could possibly even outdo Kitty Kelly.

He usually starts with whispering in my ear: "Have you heard
the latest scandal?" Then he tells me the gossip, such as the one
about a lucky woman who will finally get married, even though her
child is already attending kindergarten.

I would never have known the people who were involved in the
drug trade or even the names of the drugs, or the names they are
known by here, like shabu-shabu (crystal methamphetamine) or
ecstasy. But now I am as familiar with them as I am with my daily
makeup kit. There is practically a whole encyclopedia full of
juicy bits of scandal concerning people around me. I could
publish a Who's Who of the mistresses, with whom they sleep and
where they built their new mansions.

A few months ago it was about spending. "It's amazing how much
money is spent on jewelry, Bulgari, Cartier, Tiffany, you name it
and they buy it," he complained.

"People have done it all the time," I remarked. "I know lots
of people who only buy expensive jewelry, some even take pride in
calling themselves collectors."

"That's different," he answered, shaking his head, "a few
years ago we were rich, nobody cared what you bought. You would
even be chided for not spending money, but now we are poor.
Besides, this is the time of reform and krismon! People are
hungry and people want justice. And they are so stupid, they make
most payments by cash, hundreds of thousands of greenbacks all in
cash!"

"You mean that they take their greenbacks in cash with them
when they travel to the States? Tens of thousands? What about
customs regulations and pickpockets?"

"Tens of thousands, Tante you must be kidding! They take
hundreds of thousands with them or maybe millions! There are
people who are above the law, they can never get caught and their
bodyguards scare off any pickpockets."

When I visited him last time he had much less to tell me and I
asked him why. He shook his head and said. "All this freedom of
the press is taking the business away from me. If it is not in
the usual papers, the tabloids will publish it or people may buy
the photocopies. And then there is something new, the something
Net or the Web, I don't understand what it is, but now my clients
know more than I do about the scandals, the divorces, the drugs,
all of the things that I used to tell them."

"But you are a better storyteller and a good hairstylist," I
said in an attempt to comfort him. He just shook his head and
said solemnly: "Yes, but there is one thing with which they beat
me, always. They give their readers a special bonus: nice
pictures of beautiful girls supposedly wearing body stockings.
But poor me, the gossip used to be the bonus I gave to my
clients, what more do I have to offer?"

-- Myra Sidharta